Fallen Angels
by Alexis Erika Rose
Summary: She was driven half mad by a desire to be something she wasn't. He was held in the clutches of the darkest despair. Can fallen angels find saving grace in love? Largely Kay and ALW with hints of Leroux
1. Madness

A/N Hello my dears. I have a new fic for you. If you could help me, I need a title and a British last name.

Chapter One: Madness

Charlotte didn't understand why her father had made her move to Paris with him. She was much happier back in London, where she had been born ad raised. She could have stayed with her Grandparents, or her father could have never bought that ridiculous Opera House. Charlotte laughed when she remembered why they had moved; her father had bought a 'haunted' opera house. The men they'd hired to move their thing into the house gave her strange looks. Charlotte just giggled and fluttered her fan coyly. She sighed and snapped her fan shut, the men hadn't even given her a second glance.

She turned to the mirror that had been placed behind her. She toyed with a strand of her limp brown hair, wishing it were curly and a more interesting color, like mahogany, or ebony, or a golden blonde. She glanced at her muddy brown eyes and wished they were a bright green, or a vivid blue., even a steely grey would make her happy. Her skin was as pale and flawless as any Victorian woman's should be, but her features were so plain and ordinary.

She was eighteen and unmarried, she'd never even had a proper suitor; she was a burden and a shame to her father and he never let her forget it. The only thing she had in life was her voice. She had the voice of an angel, it was the only compliment her father gave her. She longed to be the Prima Donna at her father's new opera, (and to have a scandalous and passionate love affair, but that was beside the point) but his reply had crushed any hope she'd ever had.

"_I don't know what I'm going to do about finding a new Prima Donna. Carlotta Giudicelli will not sing, in fact, I'm afraid she's was driven half-mad by the events of last year. Most of the other divas are to silly and superstitious to sing at my opera, the good one's at least." Charlotte's father finished with a heavy sigh and Mr. Smith, his closest friend, shook his head sympathetically._

"_Father," Charlotte began timidly, "I… I could sing."_

"_You!" Her father sneered. "You are to ugly! No one would pay to hear you sing!" He laughed cruelly._

Charlotte watched her reflection as the unwanted tears streamed freely down her cheeks. She raised her fist and rammed it into the mirror. She stared at her shattered reflection, not caring that her white gloves were torn and were slowly absorbing the crimson blood that flowed from her numerous cuts.

"Do you think she's mad?" She heard one of the maids whisper.

"Poor thing," another replied, "ugly and insane." Charlotte turned her blazing eyes on them.

"I'm not mad!" She screamed. "I'm not…." She fell to the floor sobbing. "I'm not mad…. I'm not… I'm not…." The maids shook their heads and quikly walked away murmering quietly among themselves. Charlotte screamed and buried her face in her hands.

Fifteen minutes after her 'fit' Charlotte was in the room that was to be hers. She had chosen it because of the bay window wich over looked the garden in the back. It was a beautiful garden. It was mostly roses of colors, white, yellow, pink... and Charlottes favorite, a deep scarlet. The richness of that deep red reminded her of blood... There were other flowers to, but there were mostly roses and those were all the Charlotte cared about, becuase they were her favorites.

She turned to access her room and make sure all her furniture had made it safely from London. Her great mahogony bed was there, as was her piano, she was gald the room was big enough for it and for the rest of her possessions. She checked on her bedside table and found that the maids had unpacked her things already. She picked up the silver mirror that had been her mother's, the only mirror in her room. It was the only thing she had left her. Her mother had died when Charlotte was eleven and sometimes what hard on Charlotte, for she had loved her mother dearly. Kathleen Ó hEachthairn had been a beautiful woman, not just in looks, but in spirit. Charlotte's mother had been a native to Ireland, the land that Charlotte's great-great-great gandfather had been from.

Charlotte sat down at the piano, which had been placed, by her instruction, facing the window, so that she could look out as she played, or composed, as she sometimes did. She placed her hands on the ivory and ebony keys and began to play a slow, dark, compostion she written upon recievng the news about her father's purchase. She had been forced away from all that she knew and loved so that her father could make even more money, not that he need it. Charlotte closed her eyes and let the music fill her and flow from her fingers.

A/N so how's that?


	2. The First Meeting

A/N Yay I have a beta! woohoo... So here goes my second chapter! Oh before I forget, don't get mad if my updates come slow, now, Band Camp starts Monday and school the week after Band Camp ends, so I won't be able to update as often, but I will try!

Chapter Two: The First Meeting

Charlotte aimlessly wandered through the halls of her father's opera house. She sighed lowly as some pretty ballerinas passed her snickering. One of the younger ballerinas, a particularly pretty one too, with forget-me-not eyes and ivory skin, stepped in front of her and dropped into a low, mocking curtsy.

"You must be Mademoiselle Ó hEachthairn. I am Jammes." Charlotte just tried to move past her and avoid whatever mischief she was trying to cause, but the child blocked her way. "Oh please do not deny us the _pleasure_ of your presence, Mademoiselle.", she sneered. "We would love to be in the company of one so _beautiful_ as yourself." At this she and the other ballerinas laughed and began to torment her with names and jeers. Charlotte ran to the nearest room, tears streaming down her face and blurring her vision. She fell onto a chaise lounge sobbing into her arms.

Once she had regained enough of her composure to stop crying, the girl sat up and looked around the room. The first thing that caught her eye was an ornate full-length mirror. She got up and moved toward it, then she looked at her reflection for a moment, noting how the deep green color of her dress made her look…passable. However, something struck her as odd about the mirror. After studying it for a moment she noticed that there was a small space between one side of the mirror and the frame. She wiggled her fingers into the space and pushed. The mirror slid sideways, opening into a long dark corridor. Overwhelmed by curiosity, the young woman stepped into the corridor. She turned to look back and noticed that she could see the room through the back of the mirror. _Clever_, she thought.

She turned and began to walk down the corridor. She couldn't see very well because of its darkness, so she placed one hand in front of her and kept the other on the wall to not run into anything or fall. Charlotte moved slowly, so that if there was a step down or a set of stairs somewhere, she wouldn't fall down them and break her neck. The walls as well as the floor were covered with beads of water and therefore very slick. She followed the tunnel very carefully, and she indeed didn't fall the stairs when she finally reached some.

Eventually the tunnel came out at an underground lake. Charlotte could see lights on the other side and was now dying of curiosity. She stepped into the water, hoping it wouldn't be to deep. She was fortunate, the deepest the water got was only up to her waist.

When she reached the other side she found something most astonishing; there was a house underneath the Opera House! _If I tell anyone about this they'll really think I'm crazy,_ she thought.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Her voice was more timid than she would have liked, she had wanted to sound brave. She sighed and listened for a response. "Surely there must be someone?" She knocked on the door, just to have it come open. Carefully, she stepped inside. "Hello?" Her voice quavered a little, letting the woman curse her weakness. Then suddenly Charlotte felt her arm twisted behind her and cried out in pain.

"Who are you? Why are you here? Have you come to see the monster who haunts this place?" The man's voice was slightly slurred, but Charlotte could still hear the pain.

"P-please sir, my… my name…is…..", Charlotte spoke between sobs, "My name…..is….Char….. Charlotte…Ó hEachthairn…. My…..my father…. is the….. The new… manager……" The man pulled her arm tighter, causing Charlotte to cry out again. Her tears fell freely, leaving a salty trail as they fell into her mouth.

"Why are you here?" He hissed in her ear.

"Please sir," she still sobbed, "I-I found a…. a dressing room…. and the mirror…. Oh please don't hurt me! I was just curious!" The man released her with a shove and she fell to the ground. She looked up at the man, her vision blurred by tears. Hatily, she treid to blink the tears away to be able to see him better.

He was wearing all black, tight black too, she noted. Even though he was drunk he still had an air of elegance about him. She looked up at his face. She thought it a little odd that he wore a mask that covered the right side of his face; the left side was elegant and handsome, though a little flushed from the combination of anger and liqueur.

"What are you staring at?", he sneered. His voice was so cold it made Charlotte shiver, and she lowered her eyes.

"I-I'm sorry…" she muttered.

"Well…. What am I to do with you? I definitely can't let you go back to tell your father of my existence…."

Charlotte laughed.

"Like he would believe me! Oh yeah I can see that: 'Father, there's a strange masked man who lives in a house underneath the opera…' Then he would surely lock me away." The man glared at her. "Well, he would, everyone says I'm mad anyway…" She shrugged and rose to her feet. "Now, for a proper introduction. Good evening Monsieur, I am Charlotte Elizabeth Ó hEachthairn. And you are ..?"

The man sighed.

"Very, well if I must play these silly games. Mademoiselle Ó hEachthairn, I am Erik, Angel of Music, and Opera Ghost."

Charlotte gasped and placed a hand on her racing heart.

"You're the Opera Ghost? I thought it was only silly superstition!" Erik merely shrugged and walked over to table where a bottle of amber colored liquid sat. Charlotte watched as he took a swallow of it. "So you are the one responsible for La Carlotta's madness!" The man nearly choked on his brandy (at least she thought it was brandy.)

"Carlotta's gone mad?" His voice held an almost childish excitement.

"Well half-mad, anyway." She tried to ignore his gleeful laughter. Once he had stopped, she continued what she had wanted to say. "My father says he doesn't know what to do about a new Prima Donna….." She sighed.

"Let me guess, you want to be the new Prima Donna?"

Charlotte's face lit up, with a dreamy expression.

"Oh, yes, more than anything." She tried to restrain the sadness in her voice, but it didn't work. "My…. My father won't let me though."

"And why not, if may I ask?"

"He says I'm too ugly." Her voice was so soft she was afraid he didn't here it. She stared at the floor, admiring the Persian rugs.

"Let me hear you sing." He said. She looked up at him inquiringly. "Just do it," he said. She shrugged and fixed her gaze on the wall behind Erik.

"What should I sing Monsieur?"

"Do you know Elissa's aria in act three of Hannibal?" She shook her head. "Oh, I am rather fond of that."

"Perhaps…." She took a deep breath, "perhaps something of my own?"

"You compose?" He sounded astonished. She nodded. "Very well then."

Charlotte ran through a list of her few compositions in her head and decided on one that was her particular favorite.

"_I've wasted so many years, crying my silent tears." _ The melody was one which was better with the piano, so she stopped singing for a moment. "Do you have a piano?" He nodded and led her into a room which was decorated in red and gold, seeming to be a gaudy homage to music. She sat down at the piano. "Thank you," she said. She placed her hands on the keys and let the slow, painful melody fill her. Then she closed her eyes and let the music flow from her and fill the room. "_I've wasted so many years, crying my silent tears, for the ones who never even cared, the ones who are never there. But no more! No more will I cry for you, no more lonely tears, so cold and sad. No more regretting my life, no more worrying who's by my side. I'm on my own, all alone. I'm sick of what I see, in this mirror that sits before me. I'm sick of this life I lead. Looking at my past, it's a wonder I could ever last so long. But no more! No more will I cry for you, no more lonely tears, so cold and sad. No more regretting my life, no more worrying who's by my side. I'm on my own, all alone. I'm on my own, letting go! It's time for me to move on. No longer will you drag me down._" Here she stopped singing and the music swelled. She could feel the tears streaming down her face, but she didn't care. "_No more…. No more crying, no more dying inside! No more coldness, no more loneliness, for me. I'm letting go, I'm moving on. This has gone on way to long! No more!_" She let her voice soar on that final note and then opened her eyes. She turned and looked at Erik. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, too.

"That…was…That was beautiful." He sighed. She smiled bitterly.

"I only wish it was true. I wrote that in the hope that I could make it true."

"Your father is a fool not to let you sing. I think that the Opera Ghost may have to teach him a lesson."

Charlotte smiled.

"I'm afraid my father doesn't believe in ghosts, Monsieur."

"Erik,", he simply said. "Call me Erik, Mademoiselle."

"Then you, Erik, shall have to call me Charlotte."

He smiled back at her. He was very, very handsome.


	3. The Ghost Appears

A/N So I finally have a little time (and inspiration) to write. Yay! So here we go with Chapter Three!

Chapter Three: The Ghost Appears

Charlotte sat on the white satin couch, waiting anxiously for her father to speak. There were several long moments of uncomfortable silence as he stared into the fire a letter in one hand and his brandy glass clutched in the other. She clutched the white silk robe around her, it was the only thing hiding the elegant white lace nightgown she wore, it was something only a married woman should wear, but Charlotte found it more comfortable than anything else, one of many reasons the servants thought her mad. After what seemed like hours he turned to her and Charlotte held back a gasp of fear at what she saw.

"Is this meant to be some sort of joke?" His steel grey eyes burned with a terrible rage and the thing that broke Charlotte's heart, hatred.

"I have no idea of what you speak of father." Charlotte held her chin high and matched her father, glare for glare.

"Don't play coy with me child, you know well what I speak of, this note!" He through the paper at her roughly. Charlotte suppressed a laugh as she read the letter.

_Monsieur Ó hEachthairn,_

_I welcome you to my theatre. You may or may not have been warned of me, or my salary. So, I shall simply inform you myself. I require a salary of twenty thousand francs a month and the use of Box Five, or great and terrible disasters shall occur. I also request that you allow your daughter to sing in the stead of that tremendous cow you have hired._

_Your obedient friend and Angel,_

_O.G._

O.G….. Opera Ghost… Erik! Charlotte couldn't suppress the smile that played at the corner of her lips. Erik had called Senorita Sanchez a cow.

"Ah ha! I knew you were behind this! I have told you already, no one would pay to see a creature like you sing unless it were in a gypsy camp!" The tears fell, unbidden, down Charlotte's pale cheeks.

"I had nothing to do with this father! I swear it on Momma's grave!"

"Your mother's grave! Ha! Your mother was lying bitch! I doubt that you are even my child! Your mother's only value was that she was rich _and_ beautiful. A fine prize for a British Lord such as my self. Even though I doubted that you were my daughter, for how could one as good looking as myself spawn such an ugly thing, I raised you and made you a Lady, and my heir after your mother died. Is this how you repay my kindness? You ungrateful little bitch!" He threw Erik's note onto the fire. Sobs tore at Charlotte's throat as she watched Erik's clumsy, childish handwriting burn to ashes through tear-blurred vision.

"You arrogant bastard!" She screamed at her father. "You foolhardy, arrogant bastard! I hate you! You are the most evil mean to walk this earth! I hate with all my heart" Charlotte sobbed in her anger. All her life Charlotte's father had never hit her, until that moment. The force of the blow knocked her to the floor. Charlotte lay there for a moment, her hand covering the stinging place on her cheek where a bruise was already forming. The tears fell silently now as Charlotte lifted herself from the floor.

"That will teach you to speak to me in that manner." He hissed. Charlotte stood tall gathering the pieces of her broken heart and broken pride.

"It will teach me nothing, but that you are a cold and cruel man." With that final sentiment Charlotte turned and fled to her room.

She threw her self onto her bed, sobbing into her pillow. Once her sobs had abated enough for her to think, Charlotte grasped for the only escape she knew. She reached silently for the sewing basket by her bed and pulled out the scissors. She touch the cold blade to the pale skin on her arm and drew it lightly down her arm. She felt the giddy shock of pain erasing everything else as she watched the skin open letting the river of crimson blood flow down the snow-pale skin. This escape was one she learned long ago at the finishing school her father had sent her to after her mother's death. It was an art she had perfected and learned to hide from those around her.

Charlotte replaced the scissors in the basket and walked quietly outside to the garden. The moonlight danced across the emerald sea of the sycamore leaves and the white roses glowed delicate silver as they basked in the beams of cold light. Her pale hands gently brushed the velvet smooth petals of a rose colored so deep a crimson that it looked almost black in the pale light. Charlotte jumped at the light touch on her shoulder. She turned quickly praying that it wasn't her father, she found, to her immense relief, that it wasn't.

Erik hadn't meant for the girl to know to ever know that he had been there. He had wanted only to see the place where she lived with the man who know owned his theatre, but the garden had attracted him, with it's rich, almost wild smell. A smell of mystery, with a mix of roses and gardenias among others. It was as he was walking among the many roses that he saw her. She walked like wild mare who'd had it's spirit broken. Her was lose and tangled her pale shoulders, which weren't covered by the loose lace nightgown she wore. The gown was white and floated about her curved figure elegantly. Her skin seemed to glow almost silver in the moonlight, making her look very much like a ghost. He stepped quietly behind her as she admired the dark beauty of a blood red rose. He placed his hand lightly on her shoulder and felt the shock go through her body. She spun quickly to look him, fear in her dark brown eyes. Her face was tearstained and though she didn't think herself beautiful, that night Erik saw in her tearstained face an ethereal, almost wild beauty

"Erik!" She said breathlessly, relief flooding her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Admiring the roses, the same as you." He smiled a little. She returned the smile, though it did not mask the pain that filled her eyes. His eyes studied her face, and landed on the dark bruise that marred one pale cheek. He gently touched it watching her flinch, not with fear, but with pain. His eyes asked what his voice could not.

"My father and I had a…. disagreement." She murmured, lowering her eyes. He didn't have to ask about what. He shook his head sadly.

"I never did think it right for men to treat there wives and children in such manner", he whispered, gently pushing a strand of hair out of her face.

Charlotte shivered a little at touch, but not in fear… it was something else, something that she couldn't grasp to name. She laid a tentative hand on his and watched the shock that registered in his face.

"I must go," he said dropping his hand, "and you must rest, your fathers gala of _Faust_ is tomorrow night, though I doubt it will go well." Charlotte just nodded, silently, pretending not to notice that he glanced down at her body before he left.

"Farewell, my Angel of the Night," she whispered to his retreating figure.

It was only after Erik had gone that she remembered the angry red line of her escape earlier that night and the pale, grey-white scars of those from years past. She wondered if Erik hadn't noticed or if he had just pretended not to. No matter, he hadn't asked the questions she longed to avoid, and as he'd said the gala was tomorrow and she was anxious to see just what Erik had planned.

Charlotte woke at sunrise, on the day of the gala, and put on her robe, before going into the garden where she had seen Erik the night before. Had that meeting been real? Or was it just the product of a girls pain and overactive imagination? She traced the leaves of a dew-kissed, pale yellow rose. She inhaled the clear morning air and watched the misty sunrise, the promise of new and beautiful day. A promise which, for Charlotte, was always broken. She sighed heavily and went indoors to prepare for breakfast with her father.

Breakfast started silent, with only hateful glares passing between Charlotte and her father. Charlotte did not eat, but only pushed at the bountiful meal before her. She jumped when her father cleared his throat.

"I have come to a decision." His voice had that same pompous air to it as it always did. "You, _dear_, will sit in Box Five tonight to see whether or not there is a ghost and I shall sit with you to make sure you cannot lie to me. Oh, and another thing, I have started to look for men who will make a suitable husband for you, one who can… temper your spirit, and of course who cares more for money than beauty." Charlotte held back the stream of tears that threatened to fall at the thought of the cruel man her father had in mind for her. She would refuse any suitor her father presented, no matter the cost.

That night was the first night Charlotte saw her father's Prima Donna, Senorita Rosario Sanchez was gorgeous, her long black hair glowed in the stage light like an ebony fountain and with the new opera glasses Charlotte could see the calculating green eyes, that shone like emeralds, but the Prima Donna's voice held no passion, no emotion as she sang, though her voice was pretty enough. Though she couldn't see Erik, Charlotte felt him and his anger, and soon she heard him, just a soft melodic whisper in her ear.

"Don't worry, child, I shall fix this disaster." Charlotte smiled, wondering how Erik would fix this, but not doubting that he would. She turned to look at her father, but saw that his face was pale with fright, Erik was talking to him. She was dying to know what he was saying, but doubted she ever would. It wasn't long after that, that Senorita Sanchez began to moo, instead of singing. Charlotte laughed and her father ran down to the stage to get a hand on the situation. As he held the sobbing Prima Donna in his arms Charlotte knew how she had gotten the part, she could see it in the she clung to him and the places he gently and discreetly brushed with his hands, but her anger was soon forgotten.

"Madams and Messieurs I beg of you to forget this disaster and forgive the shortness of this performance. I would like to invite you all to our gala in two weeks time when the role of Marguerite, will be played Mademoiselle Ó hEachthairn. Mademoiselle if you will get out here, _please_."

Charlotte rushed down the stairs, knowing that if she didn't hurry, she would later be beaten for it. Her father grabbed her wrist, his grip bruising it, and pulled her roughly onto the stage. The audience was murmuring discontentedly.

"If… If you bring the program from tonight's performance, you will be allowed free entry." The audience stopped their complaints. "Once again I apologize and bid you goodnight."

Once the people had left and Senorita Sanchez was sedated and waiting in her dressing from Charlotte's father, he turned his anger on her.

"I don't know how you did it, but I know you're behind this." His voice was nothing more than an arrogant hiss. He struck her several times, over and over and when she fell to the floor he kicked her over and over in her stomach and head, until finally Charlotte allowed the pain to flood her and drag into the darkness of unconsciousness.


	4. The Color of Despair

A/N Yay! Another chapter! Will it be less dramatic and depressing than the previous one? Ha! As if!

Chapter Four: The Color of Despair

As Charlotte slowly came out the foggy darkness of drug induced sleep, she felt the stiffness of her aching body. She fought through groggy clods of half remembered dreams, searching her mind for the reason she was so sore. It was only after the fog had lifted from her mind that she remembered the disaster of her father's first opera. He has changed so much since he started drinking.

Charlotte opened her eyes slowly, blinking drowsily in the light of at least a hundred candles. This was not home and this was not her bed. She wished it was though, it felt as if her battered body was being cradled by a cloud.

Charlotte sighed lazily, tentatively stretching her muscles. She sat up sliding her feet out from under the warm quilts and onto the cold stone floor. She shivered realizing that she was wearing only her thin white chemise. She looked around, vaguely wondering where she was. She stood to look around and get some idea of where she might be, but her legs where weak and they gave out from under her sending her tumbling to the floor. She cried out as she fell. She reached out and caught herself, the palms of her hands stinging as they smacked the hard stone floor.

Charlotte pulled herself up using the bed post. She clung to it as she stood, unsure of what to do next. It wasn't long before she began to grow scared. She was trapped, alone in a room full of candles. She began to cry and to call out for anyone who might be outside the room.

"Is anyone there? Please help me!" Charlotte waited for a response, but received none. "Someone, anyone, please help me for the love of god! Please! Please!" Charlotte's cries became more frantic and so she let go of the bedpost and feel to the floor, sobbing and screaming uncontrollably into her hands.

Moments later, Charlotte felt herself gathered into someone's arms. That person held her close, stroking her hair comfortingly and soon a familiar voice was singing to her. His voice wove it's way around her, soothing and calming her. She stopped screaming and soon had stopped crying, eager to her more of that heavenly voice.

Erik picked her up in his arms, cradling her almost like a child. She placed her head on his thin, bony shoulder. Soon he had placed her gently on a red velvet sofa and he stopped singing. Charlotte shook her head to clear the fog that had settled in. She watched Erik silently for a moment as he fixed himself a glass of brandy. After a moment she broke the silence.

"Why did you bring me here, Erik?" Charlotte's voice was so soft, that she barely heard it.

"Simply because I knew your father would not call a doctor and it would not do for my Prima Donna to be injured and not treated, you may have damaged you vocal cords." His voice haled the same icy tone it had the night she'd inadvertently stumbled upon his lair. What had happened to the Erik she'd seen in the garden?

"Oh…" Charlotte blushed remembering that she was now wearing only a chemise, where as she'd had been wearing very much more the night of the Opera. She blushed a deep crimson then as she thought of Erik's gentle hands undressing her. She turned her head when he turned and looked at her, not wanting him to see her scarlet face, she had no way of knowing the connotations it held to him. He turned his back to her again

_It's better she never knows…._ he thought remembering Christine. This was his second chance at greatness, Charlotte Ó hEachthairn was his key to greatness, she would be a star and his new Opera would be made a success because of her. First, though, he needed information.

"Now, mademoiselle," better to keep the cold formality, "I find it imperative to know the history of my manager and my Prima Donna and as of yet my….. researchers have found little information on the Ó hEachthairns. Now, tell me about your family."

"Why must you know about us?" Charlotte asked. "What do you care?" Erik's cold demeanor frightened her and stung her deeply. For some reason it hurt more that her father's fiery wrath.

"Caring has nothing to do with it, child," his voice was cold as ice, "I stopped caring a long time ago."

"Fine then, messier," Charlotte kept her tone even, though the fire of her anger was evident, "I will tell you all that I know about my family.

"My great-great-great grandfather, Patrick Ó hEachthairn, came to England from Ireland, he came with his wife, Caitlin Ó hEachthairn, and their three children, Rowan Ó hEachthairn, my great-great grandfather, and his sisters, Maggie and Shannon. Patrick had lost his families fortune and was being pursued by some of the less savory 'businessmen' that he'd made some bad business deals with. How the family got the fortune to began with I do not know, only that it was amassed through several generations before my great-great-great grandfather swindled it away. He lived a modest existence from that day out, but Rowan resented his father's actions and spent his whole life working to rebuild the family fortune and eventually he did, but it cost him his soul. He became a cruel man and when his parents died leaving his sisters unmarried, he married them off to rich men who were twice their age, for money and the connections. Eventually he married the Lady Amelia Baltimore, who was the queens fourth cousin. They had only one child, because Amelia died in child birth. My great grandfather, Lord Andrew Ó hEachthairn, inherited two fortunes and married Lady Mercedés Du Lac , the younger sister of the Viscount Du Lac, only they married for love, like my great-great-great grandparents. You see Andrew despised his father and some even say he had poisoned since my great-great grandfather died under rather suspicious circumstances, but I believe it was one of his many enemies he made during his rise to power. Andrew and Mercedés had three children the oldest was a girl, Marie, followed by my grandfather, Richard and then their baby sister Heather, who died at the age of twelve from Tuberculosis, it wasn't long after that that Mercedés died of a wasting sickness that some blamed on her broken heart at the lose of her favorite child. When Richard was seventeen his father died in a carriage accident and Richard inherited his father's title and his business. Richard was a good kind man and he married a good lady, my grandmother Eponiene Valjean, who had no noble blood, but she and Richard met and fell in love when they were eighteen, while Richard was vacationing in Paris, not far from here actually. They had four children, the oldest was my father James Raoul Ó hEachthairn, a year later they had my aunt Mercedés Anne Ó hEachthairn, she was followed by Jonathan Pierre Ó hEachthairn two years later, who died at the age of five when he fell down the stairs, the youngest is Genevieve Cossette Ó hEachthairn, Lady Genevieve is a good woman, she is working hard to help those who cannot help themselves. My father is a cold man, but my grandparents are kind and generous people, but my father will inherit their estate and my husband, whoever that will be, will stand to inherit a lot of money, and my father has several ventures to add to that fortune. About twenty years ago, my father married my mother, Kathleen O'Bryan, who was beautiful, rich, and kind. She was so vibrant and full of life. Two years after they married I was born. Then, when I was eleven, my mother fell ill with a wasting sickness that not even the best of doctors could cure. In the last days of her illness my mother told me that I had an older sister named Caroline, but her mind was going then and all the vitality was gone from her life. Two dies later she died…." Charlotte's voice broke, and she collapsed into tears. She mentally cursed her weakness. It was one of the things that she despised most about herself, the only thing that her plainness came second to. "So here I am, Lady Charlotte Elizabeth Ó hEachthairn, the only daughter of Lord James Patrick Ó hEachthairn, except for a sister possibly invented my dying mother, Lady Caroline Fantine Ó hEachthairn, who should she, God willing, someday materialize, would be the rightful heir to my father's fortune.

"There you have it Messier Erik, my family history as my grandfather told me."

"Thank you, Lady Ó hEachthairn, I did not know of you title, for some reason your father appears to want that kept secret for now."

"He had planned to let it be known after the first Opera, but…."

"I see." Charlotte stood, the effects of whatever drugs Erik had fed her wearing off so that her legs could support her.

"Erik," she whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Will you tell me your story, so that I may know the man who works to make me a star?"

"No." His voice was harsh and he shrugged her hand off his shoulder. "No, no one, not ever shall know of my existence, beyond that of the Phantom. Now, we begin you lessons, we have only to short weeks until your debut and there is much to learn." Charlotte stood her hands hanging helplessly by her side, staring at the floor, his moods changed so suddenly.

And so Charlotte began her voice lessons under the tutelage of the Phantom of the Opera.

A/N Well, there you have it. It's slightly less dramatic, but still…. Oh, I have no idea if the possible sister thing will come into play again or not, Erik's new Opera will have to, no doubt about that, I'm just sure where that came from…… I had no intentions of putting that in there and it wasn't in my handwritten copy of this chapter, but when I was typing it, it just kind of appeared….. Ah! I've created a monster! It's Alive! Muwahahahaha! So now you must review or the monster will attack! Ha ha! Just kidding, but please review anyway, I don't get a pay check for this, but your reviews stand as a nice substitute.

Oh and one more thing, According to my sats, by hits Endless Longing is my most popular story, followed by Little Lotte, and then this story, but by reviews Endless Longing is still number one and Little Lotte is number two, but PhanDate is third and this one is seventh. So please review and recomend this story to your friends, because it's my favorite and by my best and I want to my number one. Thank you!


	5. Bitter Sweet Bruises

A/N: Yeah! Another Chappie! This is the only story I work on anymore, it's addictive, and you know what? I want to know what happens as much as you do! Hahaha!

Chapter 5: Bitter Sweet Bruises

Charlotte sat staring at her hands as Erik lectured her on yet another mistake in her aria. Her mind began to wonder to the events of the past week. Thanks to Erik's careful ministrations her bruises had faded, but she had new ones every day that she successfully hid from him along with the new cuts. That night, when he had undressed he down to her chemise, she had decided he probably hadn't said anything because he thought they were from the beating her father had given her.

Her father's drinking had increased and she couldn't recall a time, as of late, that she had seen Erik with out a brandy glass in his hand. The difference between the two was that Charlotte's father was a violent drunk and Erik always managed to maintain his elegance and dignity. It wasn't the alcohol that made him violent, but something else.

"Charlotte!" Erik's angry voice brought her out of her reflections.

"Yes Monsieur? "

"Mademoiselle, how can I teach you if you refuse to listen?"

"Perhaps if your words were kinder, I would listen to them."

Erik closed his eyes, silently trying to control his growing rage .When he finally did open his eyes, the glowed with his an anger that made Charlotte flinch in fear. When he spoke it was with a deadly calm.

"_Lady _Ó hEachthairn," he stressed the title, "_I_ am doing you a favor. If you would rather you may leave now and make a complete fool of yourself in a weeks time….. or you may stay here and learn something under my guidance….. or perhaps you think you might find a more competent teacher else where?"

Erik watched the girl shiver in fear, or maybe it was something else, at the icy clam anger of his voice. He watched her close her eyes as she silently reflected on his words. When she opened her mouth to speak he assumed it would be with the same timid, indecisive, submission as Christine, he couldn't have been more wrong.

"How do I know that you are competent messier, if I have never heard you sing or one of you students?" Charlotte smiled, she was toying with him, Erik hated being toyed with. He closed his eyes and fought the flood of rage that threatened to overwhelm him, but there was something else there that he almost didn't recognize, but he knew it for what it was and it frightened him just a little.

"Child, you will find it wise to never question me or toy with me again. You are the student and I am the teacher. No get up and sing."

Charlotte did rise, but when she opened her mouth, it wasn't to sing.

"No, Erik, I will no longer be your slave to sing for you." Charlotte was three steps away when the lasso jerked her feet out from under her, slamming her into the ground face first, she was barely able to catch herself with her hands, though it hurt like hell. Erik pulled the rope dragging her helplessly across the floor, until her feet reached his. He waited until she had struggled onto her back before he straddled her waist and pinned her arms above her head.

"You will learn to obey me Charlotte one way or the other," he hissed in her ear.

"Erik…. Erik please," Charlotte whimpered as Erik's lips traced their way down her throat. "Please don't make me do this Erik."

"Now, will you obey me, or must we do things the hard way?" Erik asked, his eyes blazing with a fire Charlotte didn't recognize.

Charlotte's throat was constricted with fear and unshed tears burned in her eyes. _Be strong….be strong…. _she thought frantically. _Say the hard way….. _some dark part of her begged

"Yes….. Erik, I….. I will do as you say….." The words were harsh whispers, forced through clinched teeth as she turned her head from him, so that he couldn't see the tears that spilled down her cheeks.

"There child," Erik said rising from the floor and offering Charlotte his hand, "that wasn't so hard was it?"

Charlotte glared up at him ignoring his offer of help. _Damn foolish weakness,_ she mentally cursed herself. _Why am I such a helpless fool? _She asked herself.

Erik stared at Charlotte as she picked herself up off the floor. Strands of her hair had fallen loose from the neat bun she'd had it in earlier and the lose tendrils framed her delicate face beautifully. He felt an odd longing sweep through him as he watched the tears fall from her eyes and trace salty trails to her partially open mouth as she glared at him with contempt. Little did she know how much that look pained him.

"What is it you wish me to do for you, _master_?" The contempt in Charlotte's voice wasn't masked.

"Sing for me Lady Ó hEachthairn, simply sing for me." Erik replied sinking onto a sofa.

A/N Woohoo Chapter 5! Now I have to write Chapter six! Please review!


	6. The Color of Desire

_**A/N: If I can pull this one off it should be sort of soft, dreamy and romantic, with just a little of my normal angst and drama towards the end. Oh, by the way, I'm not posting anymore on this until I have a total of fifteen reviews. I need your reviews like Kay's Erik needs morphine, so give them to me before I go insane and kill of all the characters! Don't doubt me, those of you've read "Endless Longing" know I can do it……..**_

Chapter Six: The Color of Desire

Charlotte sat in the dressing room, the same one where she'd first discovered the tunnel to Erik's lair, after her stunning Gala performance. Erik's teachings had, in fact, paid off, the crowed had loved her, jumping to their feet and roaring with applause after her final aria. Charlotte was ecstatic, her voice had soared to heights she'd never thought possible and even her father had seemed taken with her performance.

As strange as it seemed after the events of last week, Charlotte was only concerned with Erik's opinion of her performance. Charlotte had grown quite fond of him over the last week, after his one violent outburst, Erik had been as gentle with her as a Shepard with a lamb. Charlotte smiled at her reflection in the mirror, she was radiant with happiness. Charlotte left the mirror and sat the chaise lounge, wondering if Erik would come to her or if she should go to him.

Charlotte began to hum the tune of a lullaby her mother used to sing to her. It was an old Irish song the they had both dearly loved. She began to sing the words softly to herself.

"O Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling  
From glen to glen and down the mountainside  
The summer's gone and all the roses falling  
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.

"But come ye back when summer's in the meadow  
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow  
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow  
O Danny boy, O Danny boy, I love you so.

"But if ye come and all the flowers are dying  
If I am dead, as dead I well may be,  
You'll come and find the place where I am lying  
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.

"And I shall hear, though soft, your tread above me  
And all my grave shall warmer, sweeter be  
For you will bend and tell me that you love me  
And I will sleep in peace until you come to me. "

As the last note cleared the air Charlotte collapsed into sobs as bittersweet memories of her mother flooded over her. She didn't know how long she had lain on the chaise lounge, but she had cried until she had no tears left. When she finally stood and looked in the mirror to see the toll her crying had taken on her appearance, she was stunned to see, not her reflection but Erik's. She turned suddenly, to see if he was behind her, but there was no one. She turned back to the mirror, still it was his reflection she saw.

"Erik?" The question escaped her lips as a mere whisper.

"Child, why do you despair? Your performance was excellent tonight."

"I-I miss my mother terribly Erik. She was the only one to ever show me kindness and love, but she died when I was young. I miss her terribly." Charlotte's voice cracked and in seconds she was in Erik's arms sobbing on his shoulder. Erik gently stroked her hair, the only way he knew to soothe her, but there was another way….. No, he would not sing again. He was Angel of Music only for Christine, the one who held his heart. He gathered the sobbing girl in his arms and carried through the mirror and down to the prison he called his home.

Once Erik had Charlotte calm and drinking tea, he wasn't quite sure what to do. It had been a long time since he'd had a woman in his 'home' for anything other than a lesson. Memories of the last time he'd seen Christine still haunted him.

_Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you; you are not alone!_

But Christine had lied. He was alone, more alone than she could ever know. Erik sighed and closed his eyes, visions of his Angel plaguing him as always.

"Erik," Charlotte's voice pulled him out of his reverie. "Erik, what is the matter?"

"Nothing, child, nothing," he sighed.

**_A/N: Well, that's where it ends for now…. Please review, I'd say I won't update 'til I get a certain amount of reviews, but I can't do that to my loyal readers. J You know who you are! Thank you for your support!_**


	7. A Little Night Music

Chapter Seven: A Little Night Music

Charlotte gently brushed the velvet petals of a scarlet rose. She was on another of her nighttime visits to the garden. Charlotte smiled as she remembered Erik's praise the night before.

She shook her head. Erik was an enigma to Charlotte, he could be so tender one moment and then violent or distant the next. He was constantly aloof, as though he was afraid of close to her and what on earth was he hiding behind that mask?

Charlotte sighed. Erik's presence always made her feel different somehow. He made Charlotte feel beautiful, like she was worth something. Sometimes she did wonder whether he noticed the angry red lines and purple bruises that decorated her otherwise milky skin, but it was better that he didn't ask, that he didn't know.

Charlotte closed her eyes and inhaled the heavy scent of the roses. She longed for Erik's presence then; for that feeling of warmth and safety that his presence created in her soul. Charlotte especially needed it after her encounter with her father that morning.

_Charlotte headed downstairs to breakfast in a fairly light mood for what felt like the first time in years. Erik had been very pleased with her performance and had told her as much last night. Charlotte smiled slightly as she approached the table where her father was already seated._

"_Good Morning Father."_

"_Good morning Charlotte, I have news for you."_

"_Really Father?" Charlotte reached for a biscuit. "What is it?"_

"_Well, I have decided that you shall continue as our lead soprano until you marry."_

_Charlotte hadn't thought she could be any happier. Her spirit soared; her father was willingly accepting her as his lead soprano. Her happiness was quickly crushed however._

"_Speaking of marriage, I have found three suitors for you. You will have no choice in which one you marry. I have ordered them by my preference and if they decide to marry you then so be it._

"_The first is the Vicomte Pierre d' Sartre, he is forty-one and his family is very affluent in France. The second, should d' Sartre reject you is the Duke James Roth, he is sixty-one and affluent in London. Should Roth reject you, you are left with the Baron Philippe De Savois. De Savois is fifty-one and he has two daughters from two previous marriages. The eldest is ten year old Amelie, by his French wife, Baroness Mercedes De Savois. The youngest is seven year old Graciela, by his Spanish wife, Baroness Natalia De Savois. Both wives died soon after their daughter's births and De Savois inherited a good deal of money after this wives', who were both only children, parents died. De Savois is a very affluent man in both France and Spain and if he marries you he will likely be the wealthiest man in both countries._

"_Those are your suitors, be kind to them and hopefully the thought of your dowry and the wealth they would stand to inherit should they marry you will blind them to your lack of beauty and your… oddities, to put it simply."_

_Charlotte sat dazed here spirit crushed; she was to have no choice._

"_You speak of wealth and beauty Father, but what of love?_

_Her father laughed mirthlessly._

"_Love," he sneered. "Love is a fairytale for children and fools."_

_Charlotte bowed her head tears streaming down her pale cheeks. When she finally looked up her eyes burned with anger and hate._

"_I will not," she stated forcefully._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I refuse," she replied vehemently, rising from her chair as she spoke. "When I marry it will be my choice."_

_Her father rose slowly from his seat, his every movement exuding hatred. His eyes glowed with more hate than Charlotte had ever thought possible._

"_You are my daughter, you belong to me," he hissed. Charlotte flinched, remembering where she had heard similar words before. "You will do as I tell you to do, you ungrateful little wretch!"_

_Charlotte gasped in fright as she took in her father's demonic appearance. She turned and fled as fast as her heavy clothing would allow her, but it wasn't fast enough._

Charlotte lowered her head the tears falling freely as she fell to her knees, cradling the arm her father had broken. Charlotte felt her heart shatter into a million irreparable pieces as the memories of that morning, her father's harsh words and rough beating, flooded her mind. No choice. She was to be stuck with a cold man who cared only for money and male heirs. The thought echoed in her mind and reverberated through out the shattered pieces of her heart. No choice. A low animalistic moan of pain and loneliness escaped her throat.

That was how Erik found her; sobbing hopelessly on her knees in the garden, her night dress and hair swaying gently in the breeze, as she cradled a broken arm close to her chest.

"Charlotte, child, what ever is the matter?" What Erik saw when she turned on her knees and turned her face up to him ripped what remained of his heart to shreds. Charlotte's warm brown eyes were dulled with a look of forlorn pain, one of those eyes was blackened and her left cheek was marred with a deep angry red gash that he knew would scar her for life. Her bottom lip was split and swollen, her right check was marked by deep purple bruising that Erik could also see on her arms. The worst of it was her wrist. The wrist she cradled was swollen and discolored; Erik could see the glistening white tip of a bone protruding through her skin. He would have wagered that she also had a few broken ribs.

Erik didn't have to as to know whose handiwork this was. His throat constricted and unshed tears stung at his eyes as a fiery wrath flared in the darkest depths of his soul.

"Why child, why did he do this?"

Charlotte diverted her eyes, wanting to avoid tedious and tormenting explanations.

"I-I fell down the stairs," she whispered hoarsely.

"I'd sooner believe you were pushed," Erik hissed venomously. "Tell me why your so called father did this to you."

"I- I told him I would not marry the man he chose," Charlotte replied reluctantly.

Erik set his lips in a tight, thin line and shook his head. Lord Ó hEachthairn was a chauvinistic pig more worthy of the Punjab Lasso than that foppish Vicomte, Raoul, at least he had been kind, if slightly egotistical. Erik sighed, he had to set that bone, which meant re-breaking it.

"Charlotte, why did your father not call a doctor for you," Erik had to know.

"He- he said my scars would serve as a constant reminder of what happens to girls who are disobedient." Charlotte sobbed.

Erik closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to determine the best way to distract Charlotte from the pain he was about to cause her. He could only think of one. He placed his hands on her wrist and began to sing softly in her ear as he worked.

"Pitiful child, so hurt, so lonely, yearning for some comfort." Erik's voice was soft and mesmerizing, it wasn't long before Charlotte was completely silent, staring deep into his eyes while his worked deftly to repair the damage her father had done. Erik was half tempted to sing an original composition for her, but instead chose something only vaguely familiar,

" In the starlight, in the starlight let us wander gay and free, for there's nothing in the daylight half so dear to you and me; like the fairies in the shadow of the woods we'll steal along; and our sweetest lays we'll warble, for the night was made for song. When none are by to listen, or to chide us for our glee. In the starlight, in the starlight, let us wander gay and free." The song was short, but is was long enough for Erik to do what he needed to do. He wiped the tears from Charlottes cheeks. He broke two branches from a tree and ripped the bottom of his cloak to use as a splint.

"Thank you," Charlotte smiled. Erik smiled slightly in return and offered Charlotte his hand to assist her to her feet. She took his hand, but when she rose he did not release his hold, nor did she.

They strolled through the garden for what seemed like an eternity, talking, laughing, and singing, knowing that Charlotte's father wouldn't wake from his drunken slumber. Dawn came all to soon and it was time for Erik to leave before the servants arrived.

"Farewell, my Angel of the Night," Charlotte whispered to his retreating figure, just as she had at their previous meeting in the garden.


	8. To be or not to be In love that is

A/N: Well Here is Chapter Eight…. At last! Um… Yeah I've gotten some… interesting reviews lately…. And on that note…. Reviews are appreciated but not required and they do seriously sometimes inspire me to write faster….. That's not bribery or begging just the honest to God truth…. Anyway I like this story and I want know what happens ( ha ha ha ) so on with the story.

Chapter Eight: To be or not to be... In love that is

Charlotte went back to her bed room as the sun began to rise, but she knew she wouldn't sleep not while Erik occupied her thoughts.

Erik paced back and forth in front of his organ. He felt as though he was being disloyal to Christine.

_But she left you…._

_But I love her…._

_Ah…. But what about Charlotte?_

_The Ó hEachthairn girl is nothing, only a student_

_Really_

_Yes. Really_

_But she is a pretty student_

_Not as pretty as Christine_

_With a pretty voice_

_Not as pretty as Christine_

_Then stop comparing every woman you meet to Christine_

_But she was perfection it's self, my Christine_

_But she left you and now Charlotte has come and could be your redemption and you won't let her in_

"I don't want her to be my redemption! I want Christine!" The angry words sounded hollow and empty to Erik, could he be so shallow? The inner voice he had argued with only moments ago fell silent once more. Erik sat down at his organ and played a few notes.

"Wishing you were somehow here again

Wishing you were somehow near

Sometimes it seemed if I just Dreamed

Somehow you would be here"

Erik put his head down on the keys and began to sob. Christine would not come back and if Charlotte saw his face neither would she. Erik visualized the two girls side by side. Christine was the elder and truly the more beautiful with her glowing milk white skin, angelic blue eyes, and soft mahogany curls. Charlotte was shorter, but she had elegance and grace. Charlotte could be more feisty than Christine at times, but was often just as childish and weak.

Erik smiled remembering the time Charlotte had challenged him. Christine would never have done that, but the girl had learned quickly and hadn't done it again, nor had she so much as asked what was hidden behind his mask.

_That's because she trusts you_

_I don't deserve her trust_

_You have had an advantage over her since the day you met her and yet you have not taken advantage of her_

_But I am a monster no woman could love_

_And yet you've seen it in her eyes_

"No! She can't love me! I Cannot love her! I will not betray Christine!"

_But you've thought about Charlotte, dreamed of her and loved her_

"I have not! I will not!"

_Admit it Erik you could love Charlotte if you let go of Christine, she's not coming back, but Charlotte will, she love's you Erik_

"Charlotte deserves better than me, better than the life I could provide," Erik whispered. "Oh, god" he sobbed, "I do love her. Oh Christine…."


	9. Confessions and Lies

A/N: I just wanted to note that I have decided to put quotes that I find fitting for the chapter at the beginning of each chapter and that all reviews are much appreciated and inspire to update more. As for previous chapters, I will update them with lyrics at some point.

"_Oh we ought not to part  
I have said from the start  
You're the one rose that's left in my heart"_

-From "One Rose" by Johnny Cash_  
_

Chapter Nine: Confessions and Lies

Charlotte looked up into the face of her third and final suitor, Baron Philippe De Savois. Both the Vicomte Pierre d' Sartre and the Duke James Roth had been seeking trophy brides who were not only wealthy, but beautiful as well.

She hated the Baron. It wasn't that he was ugly, his black and silver hair and beard gave him quite an elegant and refined look, especially combined with the rough, chiseled features of his face. His eyes were a cold steel grey and he frightened Charlotte more than Erik ever had. He talked consistently of money, a subject that fascinated him and bored Charlotte to no end. Charlotte was frightened most by the knowledge that Philippe was determined to marry her for her father's money. Then he would use her as he liked, until she died of exhaustion or that same terrifying fate that had claimed her mother, but that she refused she would kill herself first.

Charlotte shuddered as Baron De Savois placed his arm around her waist possessively. He would marry her and soon, she could sense it. This one outing and then he would ask her father for her hand and she would have no more say in the matter. Unless of course, she were to elope, or die….

Charlotte shook her head realizing that Baron De Savois had just asked her a question.

"I- I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I- I didn't hear you."

Philippe chuckled.

"Ah… Ma Ange…. You are quite the little dreamer. I asked where you would like to go now."

"Oh…. Um…. I- uh…." _Ange…..Erik, my love….._ she thought suddenly unable to focus on the question. She loved Erik, she could no longer deny what she felt for him, but….. "I don't know, Monsieur De Savois, why don't you decide."

"Ah… weak and indecisive as any woman…." he chuckled before directing the driver to their next destination.

Charlotte settled back into her seat and her thoughts of Erik, the Angel she loved, but could never have.

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

The next day her father broke the terrible news. She was to marry Baron De Savois. Charlotte spent most of the day in her room crying. Once the she had calmed down, at the cost of several bloody cuts on her arms and legs, she came up with a plan. She would go to Erik for help.

When she arrived that night it had to be night so she could sneak out Erik was at the piano singing one of his many compositions. Charlotte was about to approach him when his beautiful, haunting voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Oh, my love, my darling  
I've hungered for your touch  
Alone, lonely time  
And time goes by so slowly  
And time can do so much  
Are you still mine  
I need your love  
I need your love  
God, speed your love to me  
Lonely rivers flow to the sea to the sea  
To the open arms of the sea  
Lonely river sigh, wait for me, wait for me  
I'll be coming home  
Wait for me  
Oh, my love, my darling  
I've hungered, hungered for your touch  
Oh, my, lonely time  
And time goes by so slowly and time can do so much  
Are you still mine, I need your love I need your  
love, God speed your love to me."

As Erik finished the song Charlotte wiped tears from her eyes. How fitting it was to the way she felt about him, but he probably wrote it for that Daaé girl, well the Comtesse De Chagny. Charlotte sighed fearing her future association with the elite of Christine's world. Charlotte shuddered with revulsion at the thought of a marriage to at man she could never love. Her heart belonged to Erik alone. She straightened herself preparing for what she faced and stepped towards Erik.

"Erik-" Charlotte said, hesitantly placing a cold, slender hand on his bony shoulder. He turned to look at her, his blue eyes seemed even sadder and more haunted than usual. She wondered briefly how long it had been since he'd slept.

"Yes, child." Even Erik's voice sound thin and worn.

"Erik, what is wrong?" Charlotte asked, momentarily forgetting her own concerns. He just looked at her blankly for a moment before changing the subject.

"Why are you here Charlotte?" He asked wearily.

"I-I… My father is forcing me to marry." The news stunned Erik. Here he was just realizing he was in love with the girl and she was being married off.

"When?" He asked slowly.

"In three weeks." _So soon? _That was ridiculous. He'd had no time to come to terms with his conflicting feelings. Truthfully, Erik didn't know if he would ever conquer his demons. Charlotte might be the salvation he so desperately needed, but she deserved better… didn't she? Erik shook his head to clear his thoughts. "To whom, are you being married?"

Charlotte wrinkled her nose in a way that Erik realized he found quite endearing.

"Does it really matter? I don't want to marry him…"

Erik raised an eyebrow at her.

"I asked you a question Charlotte."

"I know Erik, My… husband, is to Baron Philippe De Savois, who is extremely rich and has two daughters from two previous marriages. Both his previous wives died suddenly after their daughters were born." Tear fell gently down Charlottes face as she restrained herself from throwing herself into Erik's arms. His face showed no reaction to her news, he only looked up at her with those fathomless blue eyes. A sob finally escaped her lips and she gave in; falling into the comfort of Erik's arms and sobbing on his thin shoulder.

Her actions caught him off guard and sat still and silent for a moment before he slowly put his arms around her. He stroked her hair in an effort to soothe her pain, but he knew that nothing could heal her broken spirit, she was too much like him. Eventually she calmed some, but still remained in his arms. _She is only seeking comfort,_ Erik told himself, _She could never love a monster like me…_ He sighed and, placing his hands on her shoulders, pushed her back some. She didn't look at him, she only stared at her hands.

"Why did you come to me?" he asked her softly.

_The moment of truth,_ the thought sent daggers through her heart. She opened her mouth to speak, but made the mistake of looking into Erik's eyes. _He doesn't love you,_ she thought bitterly, _He could never love you, you're ugly! Erik deserves beauty and serenity and you are neither…_ She sighed.

"You… You're smart Erik, I thought you could help me. I don't want to marry him!" Charlotte felt the anger boiling as she thought of the injustice of what was happening to her. "I don't love him! I don't want a marriage of convenience, I want a marriage of love! I don't love Philippe, I love…." Charlotte caught herself before that dreaded you that would cause only painful rejection, "… to sing! A Baron could never have a wife who was a Prima Donna! Erik, please help me."

"Why me Charlotte?"

"You're my only friend," she answered softly, staring at her hands again.

This confession caught Erik off guard. He was stunned into silence. He found himself staring at Charlotte's lips, wondering briefly what it would be like to kiss her. He would never know, Charlotte did not, could not love him. It could never work out. He wanted her to be his redeeming angel, but he couldn't allow it. He was murder and therefore unworthy of her love, and Christine's for that matter. He shook his head and looked into Charlotte's tear-filled chocolate eyes.

"Erik," she whispered.

"Yes child." He reached out automatically and brushed a strand of hair off her face. She bit her lip, looking into his eyes.

"Erik, I-I love you…" her voice was soft and low as she confessed this. Erik dropped his the hand he had let linger on her cheek as he slowly stood up. He wasn't entirely sure how to react to this confession, he loved her, but whether or not he felt in the same magnitude that he did for Christine was another question. He could not provide a decent life for her below the opera, but above ground the Baron could… He looked at Charlotte again, longing to wipe the tears that flowed down her pale cheeks, but he couldn't.

"Charlotte," his voice cracked, he felt the pressure in his throat and tears building in his own eyes. _Its in your soul that the true distortion lies… Pitiful creature of darkness… _Christines word's haunted him. He lowered his head, he knew what he had to do. "Charlotte, child, you cannot love me."

Charlotte could hear the pain and the unshed tears in Erik's voice, she felt her heart shattering again as she faced the rejection she had feared.

"Why Erik? Why can't I love you?" She sobbed.

"I am a monster Charlotte. A monster. I do not deserve your love or any other's."

"You are not a monster Erik! You are not!" Charlotte half screamed half sobbed.

"You child!" Erik cried. "You silly, stupid child! You know nothing of the world! You know nothing of me! Do you want to see what is behind my mask? Do want to see why I am a monster?" Erik turned to face her and felt his heart break. Her face was white with fear and she had bitten her lip so hard that it was bleeding. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her that everything would be okay, but he couldn't he had to go on. He removed the mask from his face and stood still as Charlotte's face revealed shock and horror. She put her hand over her mouth, her face growing even paler. She stared a moment longer before she ran from Erik. Her heart wrenching sobs echoing through out the underground house.

Erik watched her go, tears streaming down his face. It had hurt him more than he thought to let her go, but it was what was best for them both, wasn't it? Erik had give up on dreams of romance long ago. Life was no fairy tale, but still the monster had no happily ever after. Charlotte would be much better with the Baron, who could afford to keep her in the style she was used to.

Erik sat back down at the piano, his fingers lightly caressing the keys. Charlotte's terrified, heartbroken sobs echoed in his mind, replying over and over with Christine's words. Erik put his head down on the keys and began to sob hopelessly for broken wings and long lost dreams that could never come true.

A/N: Well, that was thoroughly depressing. Did it make you cry? It certainly made me cry. Infact I'm still crying…. I need a tissue…..


	10. Strength

A/N: I have been informed I need more filler. Well, here it is.

Sorry I couldn't find any song lyrics. If I find some I'll replace this

Chapter 10: Strength

Charlotte ran home as fast as she could. She arrived out of breath and still sobbing as the terrifying vision of Erik's face haunted her. She would not lie to herself, it truly was a frightening sight. The scarred, twisted flesh, the pulsing blue veins. Charlotte shivered as more tears spilled down her cheeks. Why had she runaway? Erik was right all she was only a silly stupid child. She wasn't worthy of his love.

Charlotte sat down her bed and covered her face with her hands. She could feel the warm tears against them. She thought briefly of the scissors, but decided against them. They were part of what made her stupid. If she was ever going to grow up she had to learn to cope on her own. Erik was lost to her now. She had to move on and make the best of what she had. Not that she had anything… Charlotte moved to her window overlooking the rose garden where she had once walked hand-in-hand with Erik. The sight and smell of roses would forever bring Erik to her mind. She felt the tears fill her eyes and fall down her cheeks again.

_When will you ever grow up Charlotte? _She thought bitterly. It was time to stop being a stupid little girl who had to run to someone else and hide behind physical pain whenever she had problems. That was the old Charlotte and today she would become someone new. No longer would she be a silly child dependant upon others for strength. She would marry the Baron, she would live and she would find her own strength.

Her mother had found a strength, but Charlotte would be stronger. No longer would she cry, no longer would she worry about love. Love was a childish dream that had cost her the only friend she had. Love was dead, but Charlotte would live. Charlotte dashed the tears from her face and stood to her full height, shoulders back and chin up.

_Let him go, _she told her self silently. But try as she might, she could never completely rod herself of Erik's memory, forever tainted by the bitter sight of that terrifying face.

A/N: Well, I don't know why I'm updating this story… the last review I got was on chapter seven… so please review, because I am considering giving up on my fan fiction to focus on my book, and since it would actually serve a better purpose, it will take some convincing for me to give up on the idea. Anyway, as an FYI here are my story stats.

title

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Fallen Angels

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1176

3

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Angel

4

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371

2

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Fractured Dreams

3

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363

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Christine's Plea

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30

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Ladies of the Scarlet Phoenix: Lyz's story

1

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15

1

1


	11. UnHoly Matrimony

A/N: Woohoo! Update!

Chapter Eleven: (Un)Holy Matrimony

Charlotte glared at the white dress before. It was an ugly frilly thing, with lots of sparkle…. and _fluff_. She hated it, it was layer upon layer of light, fluffy satin and lace and some sheer material she didn't recognize. Her engagement ring was just as ugly, a broad gold band with a huge diamond surrounded by rubies and sapphires. The whole affair was going to be a spectacular and gaudy show of wealth and status. It was bad enough having to marry Baron Philippe De Savois- who insisted now that she call him Philippe and not Baron or Monsieur De Savois- but to suffer through this garish extravagance as well was an excruciating torture beyond belief.

_I should move to America, at least they have laws outlawing cruel and unusual punishment, _Charlotte thought as she was stuffed into layers of petticoats and voluminous sparkling skirts. Charlotte longed to be free from this terrifying duty, but it was impossible, she wasn't strong enough to survive on her own, at least in this man's world…and Erik… Erik hated her… and that face… but in the three weeks since she had seen him last, she had agonized over her feelings for him. It was a terrible experience, to be torn between love and fear, but deep down Charlotte knew she would always love Erik, no matter what… he was her forever love… Charlotte looked into the full length mirror, she looked absolutely ridiculous in the contraption of a dress her father and Philippe had chosen for her… She wondered what kind of dress Erik would of picked for her…

_Something simple and elegant… _she thought wistfully, _ and our ceremony would have been simple just the two of us and a witness…_ tears slipped from Charlotte's eyes as she thought of how different life might have been for her if fate had only blessed her with physical beauty as well as her voice. She remembered Erik's unmatched ethereal voice, how beautiful it was…

Charlotte reached up and dashed the tears from her eyes, it simply wouldn't do for Philippe to see his bride with puffy red eyes.

_I can't do it. Marrying a man I hate, a man my father chose, is not strength… it is weakness. Erik is the one I belong with, but he rejected me._

Charlotte smiled as the final button on her vast flamboyant dress was fastened. She slipped the delicate white slippers on her feet and threw the gauzy veil over her face and she ran. She ran all the way down the aisle, without her bouquet. She threw the veil back, revealing a huge smile. Philippe returned her grin.

"Why, my dear I don't think I've ever seen a more eager bride…"

"I'm not here to marry you. Monsieur. I came only to tell you that I cannot and will not marry you."

The grin slipped from his face.

"You… will… marry me… or so me help me…"

"I will not."

Charlotte was caught off guard by the sting of the back of Philippe's hand against her cheek. She reached up, her eyes wide with shock, she felt something warm and sticky against her fingers. She pulled them down and stared at the stain of crimson against her pale skin. Philippe's ring had left a gash on her cheek. There was an audible gasp from the guests.

"Messieur," Charlotte said icily through gritted teeth, "if that is supposed to make me marry you, think again."

"My dear, you will marry me, the contract is signed."

"No, Barron, I will not! I love another, and for that reason I cannot marry you."

"I don't care you wretched woman!" Philippe roared. "I don't care who you love! I don't care what you want! You will marry me."

"No," Charlotte whispered. "I will not."

Charlotte picked up her skirts and turned around and ran as fast as she could. She only half remembered where she was going, but she didn't really care as long a Philippe wasn't there. She could barely hear her father screaming as her feet carried her farther and farther away.

"Don't bother to come back home unless you plan to marry him!"

_Don't worry about that father, I have no intentions of returning._ Charlotte silently replied.

Charlotte ran and ran and ran, until she had reached the steps of the only safe haven she knew, The steps in front of the Paris Opera House.


	12. Moonlight Memories

A/N: Yeah I posted the chapter yesterday and today I had a review! Woohoo, so to thank my sole reviewer (so far) here's a new chapter. I would also like to thank this reader for all their helpful constructive criticism and reviews. Also I would like to note with a celebratory cheer, that with the addition of this chapter this will official become my longest fic…. Thus far.

Chapter Twelve: Moonlight Memories

Charlotte forced her self to walk painfully slow as she tried to think through what she had just done. She had defied her father in front of all of Paris's upper-class, with the exception of the DeChagny's who could not attend as Christine was a having a difficult time with her pregnancy. Charlotte sighed inwardly. She couldn't go unless she was willing to submit to her father's will marry the vile Barron De Savois

_Oh God, what am I going to say to him?_

Charlotte was half inclined to just turn back and marry the Barron, but she was terrified of him, especially seeing as, unlike most men, he wasn't afraid to hit her in front of people, and in a church no less. So she carried on, her feet carrying her to what was once her refuge. Soon she was at the edge of the underground lake, staring across the water into the dim light of all Erik's candles. She was scared to the point that she could not move, even though the little boat was in the water at her feet. She stared down at the dark water, standing on the edge of darkness, or so it seemed to her. She could almost feel madness at the edges of her mind. She vaguely wondered if Erik ever felt the way she did now.

Probably.

_Good Lord what am I going to do?_

Erik stared at his newest composition. It was part of his new opera, the one Charlotte **_had_** to play the lead in. It was written for her voice alone… not even Christine would sing this. It was Charlotte or no one. His new Opera, _La Beauté et le Bete, _was written solely for Charlotte, Don Juan had been a work in progress when he'd met Christine, she had merely inspired him to finish it, Charlotte had inspired him to write a whole opera, one which was nearing completion.

The role of Lorraine, the beast's tragic love belonged only to Charlotte, and Prince Lucien, the beast, belonged to him. The thought of Charlotte singing those songs with him, sent a chill down Erik's spine. He turned the pages of his opera, to the song that Prince Lucien, or Talen as the beast, would sing as Lorraine leaves him to see her family and tend to her dying father, and began to play and sing.

"One time in everybody's life

there is a moment

like the moment we knew

and if you're a fool

you'll let it slip away

sometime in everybody's life

there is a feeling

a feeling so real

and once it's gone it can never be replaced

I'm dancing with a shadow

holding on to a dream that'll never come true

still haunted by that old love song

my moonlight memories of you

my heart is like a ghost town

to every stranger that passes on through

all they find there

is what you left behind there

my moonlight memories of you

you thought when you left me

I'll let you go

but here I am loving you more

then you'll ever know

if I could hold you

feel your heart beat

just one more time

there's nothing that I wouldn't do

'cause without your love

I'll never be free of

my moonlight memories of you

one time in everybody's life

there is a moment

like the moment we knew

and if you're a fool

you'll let it slip away

I'm dancing with a shadow

holding on to a dream that'll never come true

still haunted by that old love song

my moonlight memories of you

my moonlight memories of you"

Charlotte looked up suddenly. A melody had begun to wind it's way through the corridors of Erik's labyrinth, echoing slowly and mournfully. Charlotte could hear faintly hear Erik's voice floating gently through the halls.

"Erik, my love…" she whispered brokenly. Tears filled her eyes at the sound of that beautifully melancholic voice. That voice she loved more than life its self. The voice that belonged to the man she would do anything for. "Erik…" and she followed the voice as it sang to her of lost love…

By the time she had silently made her way to Erik's home and was standing unnoticed behind him as he sang the final noted of that achingly beautiful melody, Charlotte had decided that that mournfully lonely song had to be about Christine. However as he leaned his head into his hands and began to sob and she reached out prepared to alert him to her presence she was stopped short by the name he was softly sobbing, in such heartbreaking tones.

"Charlotte… my angel…. Mon ange… Charlotte…. My love"


	13. A Reunion and A Plan

A/N yeah I have over 200 hits on this story…. And on Endless Longing! Yippee! So here's a chapter to celebrate…. Please don't shoot me! Or Punjab me! Especially Hollie and MJ Mod…. Oh and thank you for all of the encouraging reviews… except Apple… that was kind of yeah… I think I might turn off the anonymous reviews…. Most of my flames are anonymous…

Chapter Thirteen: A Reunion and A Plan

Erik jumped up, startled by the soft touch on his shoulder. In an instant, the infamous Punjab Lasso immobilized the intruder as he turned. The moment he looked into the wide brown eyes though, he dropped the lasso… She had to be a vision… this was impossible. His eyes traveled over her face, noting the bruise centered around a gash in her cheek, and the lack of her ring on the ring finger of her left hand, though she was wearing her wedding dress.

"Charlotte, child, why are you here," he asked her softly.

"I… I could not do it Erik. I could not marry Barron De Savois. I do not love him Erik. I love you." She said as she slipped the lasso over her head. "You know this is the second time I've ended up at the wrong end of this rope Erik."

Erik sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes.

"How long have you been standing there child?"

"Long enough Erik, long enough."

Erik pulled his bottom lip between his teeth trying to plan his next move. Yes he loved Charlotte, but he wasn't sure what would happen if Christine were to return to him. He wasn't sure he could make the right choice and choose Charlotte over his first and most glorious Angel. He only knew that no matter what, if **_La Beauté et la Bête_** was going to be performed then Charlotte had to play Lorraine. That cow Mademoiselle Sybil Jacques could play the role of Lorraine's maidservant, Iolanthe. That role had very few lines for her to butcher.

Erik was pulled out of his thought by Charlotte's sobs.

"Oh Erik! I do not know what I'm going to do! I cannot return to my Father's house unless I am willing to marry the Barron. And I can't Erik, I can't do that."

"Yes you can it's quite simple really. You say a few vows and _snap_ it's done."

"No Erik it's not…" she said icily. "Do you see this gash? He hit me in front of the guests and in a church no less, when I informed him that I could not and would not marry him."

Erik was suddenly struck with a plan, but as much as it would kill him, it was the only way. **_La Beauté et la Bête_** was his last work and it had to be performed. Then there was that matter of le Vicomtess De Chagny and his love for her.

"Charlotte, what if it would get you the lead in a final Opera, the grandest Opera this Opera house ever seen?" As Erik asked her this he put his hands on her shoulders and looked into the warm brown eyes that he had now discovered had the power to melt his icy heart.

"I thought that was **_Don Juan, _**Christine's final opera," she said bluntly, her eyes flashing.

Erik shook his head.

"No mon ange. Though this one has the same composer."

"One of your operas Erik? With me in the lead?"

"Well yes, and me starring opposite you. Would you be willing to marry the Barron mon ange, if it meant we could star in one opera together?"

Erik watched as Charlotte's eyes filled with pain and tears.

"But Erik, what about us," she asked as the tears spilled and slid down her pale cheeks. "Erik I want to marry you, not the Barron. Erik he frightens me! If he hit me in a church in front of the most respected people in France, what would he do in the privacy of our own home? Erik I couldn't… I cannot do… I could not fulfill my… 'Wifely duties'… to him, and I know Erik, that he would… he would force me…. Oh Erik I'm so frightened," Charlotte cried, throwing herself into Erik's arms. "Erik please, oh please don't make me do it! Erik I'm so scared."

Erik was too stunned to move at first, but after a moment he put his arms around Charlotte, making soothing noises and smoothing her hair.

"Hush now mon ange. It will be alright I promise."

Charlotte looked up at him and the pain and anger in her red rimmed eyes took his breath away.

"You don't know him Erik! He is…cruel and heartless. He treats women as nothing more than his property! All he wants is my father's money! Erik please answer me! What… about… us?"

"I'm afraid Cheri," he whispered brokenly, unable to look into her beautiful tear filled eyes, "that there can never be an 'us'."

"Why not, Erik, for god's sake why not?"

"Because child, although I love you, I am still in love Christine. I know ma petite, that you can never understand that, but I am not sure that, as unlikely as it is, if Christine were to return to me of her own free will… Charlotte, mon ange tombéI am not sure I could choose you and it would be unfair for me to force you to live like this," he gestured to his underground house, "when you deserve so very much more. The Barron can give you that, mon ange déchu, all I ask is that you perform one opera with me."

Charlotte sighed, tears falling freely down her face.

"Alright Erikmon amour, mon chéri, ma vie," she whispered, _my love, my darling, my life_, the words brought tears to Erik's eyes. It hurt so much to do this to her, but it was the right thing to do, was it not? "I will do as you say. But only because I love you more than my own life and if this is what it requires to make you happy, than so be it." Erik watched as Charlotte lowered her gaze to the floor.

"It will be alright mon chéri, you will see. I promise, it will all work out for the best ange tombé." He waited for Charlotte to reply, but she never moved, he only knew she was still alive by the fact that she was standing up and by watching her shoulders shaking with her silent sobs. "Alright mon ange tombé, I will write a letter to your father and you may deliver it to him when you return to your home. I am adding a few other stipulations. One is that you get to choose your own wedding dress," he added as he looked at the contraption she was wearing. Still she never moved, never lifted her gaze from the floor.

As Erik sat and wrote his letter he stole occasional glances at his ange tombé, his fallen angel. Still her stance remained the same, one of dejection and hopelessness, she reminded Erik of a wild mare who'd had her spirit broken. If only she knew how much it hurt him to see her that way. He did love her, but he still believed he loved Christine more than Charlotte and as long as that was so, he could not rightfully claim Charlotte's love, no matter how much it hurt him or her.

Erik signed the letter with a flourish, placed in the envelope and sealed it with his wax 'mask of red death' seal. He stood pausing a moment to look at Charlotte, still in her abject position. It was only when he placed a hand on her shoulder that she looked up at him with dry eyes.

"Here ange tombé, the letter for your father. You should go know, it is getting late."

"Yes Erik, I will go now and you shall not see me here again, but before I go Erik, know this." As she spoke, Charlotte's voice began tremble slightly, tears filled her eyes and began to fall once more. " You may not realize just how much I love you, but when you find that I am dead, know that it was out of love for you. When I marry Barron De Savois and I am no longer here, know that it was only for you."

Erik could only watch the familiar scene in stunned silence. Charlotte ran sobbing, from his home once more, only this time he knew would be the last, after the final performance of his opera he would never see her again and that was how it had to be. But her words stuck in his head, repeating repeatedly and he could not shut them out, and when they were joined by Christine's haunting phrase, he knew what a terrible mistake he had just made.

_It's in your soul that the true distortion lies._

B/N: This is Alexis Erika Rose's beta, I just want to say that I apologize for her short chapters. LOL, she has short and sweet chapters. Thank you, have a lovely day/night.

A/N: Ok, ok, I'll work on the length! I told you I've just read to many James Patterson books! And to any of you who haven't read James Patterson go buy/read When the Wind Blows right now! Well right after you review lol. Oh yes and thank you Beta!


	14. La Beauté et la Bête

A/N: Ok I promise I am nearing the end of this story, at last, My goal is to finish by Band camp, which starts July 24... If not then, than hopefully by the time school starts, meaning August 10. No AP classes although I did get a 4 on the AP English Language and Composition test J Yay! I only got a 2 on US History, but that's ok. One Year of High School left! Woo Hoo! However I am a little sad. Oh and another thing. I have an idea for a new fic, but It need a title currently I'm working it under the title Broken Lives, but I don't really like it. So anyone BESIDES my beta who can tell me where the last name of Charlotte's character (Lorraine) in Erik's Opera comes from gets to help me decide! Yippee! **_HINT_**: **_An Author(ess)_** So here we go.

Important notes: When Charlotte sings it will be _in Italics_When Erik sings it will be **in Bold**, when they both sing it will be **_in Bold Italics_** when other characters sing it will be _in Underlined Italics, _Entire cast will be **In Bold Underlined Italics**

Chapter Fourteen: **_La Beauté et la Bête_**

Charlotte nervously wrung her hands as she and her father headed towards the opera house for the final rehearsal before the opening and final performance of **_La Beauté et la Bête _**by Bastien de Dior, Erik's pseudonym, and a name well known in the realm Opera Houses.

Erik's note to Charlotte's father, M. Ó hEachthairn, had been rather vague on who the lead male was, but Charlotte could recall every word of the note perfectly.

M. Ó hEachthairn,

I have acquired a rather remarkable opera by one Bastien de Dior, you may have heard of him. He is, a close, personal friend of mine and is eager to have your daughter play the lead role of Lorraine Deveraux in his new opera **_La Beauté et la Bête. _**Needless to say he was rather impressed by her voice. Keeping in mind what happened the last time you ignored my advice, I strongly advise you to produce this opera with your daughter as the female lead and the man of Bastien's choice as the male lead. I would also advise you to ask no questions about this man, you will not see him until your last rehearsal. Do not worry, I assure you everything will go smoothly. _So long as you follow my instructions._ Also be aware that your daughter has agreed to marry the Baron De Savios, in exchange for the chance to perform the role that will give her eternal glory, and so long as she chooses her dress.

Your obedient friend and angel,

O.G.

Charlotte's father had been so eager to perform a Bastien de Dior opera that he had followed all of Erik's instruction carefully and without question, although Charlotte could tell he was often annoyed and angered by his 'requests' and 'advice' and of course there was the price to pay for her disobedience.

So it came to pass that after weeks of uneventful rehearsals with out Erik, Charlotte was headed towards the opera for the last time as performer, the next time she came it would be as the wife of it's wealthiest patron. For the very next day at sunset she was to wed the Baron Philippe De Savios. This day that Charlotte of been looking forward to with eager anticipation she was now dreading, on this day she would be the Opera Populaire's crown jewel, the girl who Bastien de Dior _chose _to play the lead in his opera and the next she would wed the man some called the most powerful man in all of France, he was certainly the wealthiest.

Charlotte approached the stage nervously, she cold see a tall, striking figure in a black cloak waiting for her. Erik smiled as she approached and Charlotte averted her gaze, she wasn't sure she could ever forgive him for trading her for his opera. The rehearsal went smoothly. No one even thought twice about Erik's mask as he had been forward thinking enough to put it in the script that Prince Lucien always wore a mask because of childhood accident involving a horse. He was a dashing figure as Lucien and a terrifying one as Talen, the beast.

* * *

Erik glanced at Charlotte as she sang Lorraine's aria "I Cannot Help Loving Him," he knew that she would make that aria famous as it would her. The song was painful and touching, the one Lorraine sang before she left her home to return to her dying love. He could see several stage hands discreetly wiping tears from their eyes. He knew Charlotte didn't realize just how beautiful she was as Lorraine. Everything about Lorraine's simple costumes, and even the more extravagant one at the end of the opera when she was crowned Princess Lorraine, flattered her. He'd made sure that the dress for this number was the most stunning of all. It was simple, nothing fancy, a tight bodice and a straight-line skirt that flared only slightly and long sleeves that flared at the wrist. The dress was coral with white edging made to look like roses. She was stunning and the moment her voice soared in the final swell of music, he knew he had made a huge mistake. He loved Charlotte with his heart and soul, he would die for her, and without her he would die. Erik sighed and placed his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do._

* * *

_

**that night**

Charlotte stood in the center of the stage, eyes toward heaven as she sang her aria. This was her moment, her chance to shine and she let her voice soar.

_I know it must be wrong_

_But without him I cannot go on_

_He is a beast, a monster by nature_

_But I love this woeful creature_

_It may be a sin but I cannot help loving him…_

As the song came to a close Charlotte really let her voice go.

_It may cost me my life_

_But after all these months of strife_

_I cannot help_

_Cannot help loving him_

_And I will love him_

_I will love him even if I…. die!_

She smiled as the audience applauded and the curtain fell. She hurried off stage to prepare for her duet with Erik.

_Talen, my love, I beg of you_

_Do not leave me all alone.._

**Lorraine, my love, forgive me**

**For I cannot go on…**

Erik's music was so touching, so beautiful that Charlotte did not have to fake the tears that came to her eyes as Erik acted out Talen's death scene. His Aria, "What Does Love Mean," had been so heartbreaking that it was fortunate that Erik had written an intermission there, because almost the entire cast was crying after that number.

Then came the scene Charlotte had been dreading, the wedding of Prince Lucien and Lorraine. The only acting trick she knew of to hide the pain this caused was to imagine that it her wedding to Erik. She took a deep breath and took the step onto the stage, wearing the same dress that she would tomorrow, the wedding dress Erik had designed. It was every bit as elegant as she had thought it would be, simple and refined. It was the same style as the dress wore when she sang "I Cannot Help Loving Him," only the sleeves stopped just below her elbows and the skirt was overlaid with a thin layer of gauzy lace, patterned with roses. There was a train, a short one, just barely long enough for Lorraine's maidservant Iolanthe to carry it. She was also wearing a small pair of gloves that were made simply of white lace.

She held tight to the bouquet of red roses and white lilies. She smiled at Erik, who was incredibly handsome in a black suit. Her heart was beating rapidly as he took her hand and sang the words that bound Lorraine and Lucien for life.

**I promise to love you the rest of my life**

_I promise to love you through pain and through strife_

**_No matter where, no matter when_**

**_I will love you 'til the end_**

Once that painfully emotional scene had passed, Charlotte hurried to change for the final scene, Lorraine's coronation. This dress was the most extravagant she wore. It was gold in color, and had a full skirt. There were ruffles and there was sparkle, even a few jewels, but it was all used sparingly, so that it would not be gaudy. It was magnificent.

Charlotte slowly walked down the stage on Erik's arm. The coronation march was beautifully written and timed to perfection. She reached the end of the stage where King Alain, Lucien's father waited with the tiara and the words that would make her a Princess. He placed the tiara on her head and sang the words that proclaimed her royalty in front of all those who were present.Then the entire cast raised their voices n the triumphant closing.

_**Love conquers all, we know this is true, **_

**_It was love that helped Beauty conquer the Beast..._**

And then it was over. The audience applauded, but when Erik and Charlotte stepped forward for their bows the audience stood and applauded them even more. Only after three curtain calls could Charlotte retire to her dressing room.

* * *

Erik was positively giddy with excitement. His opera was a success, it went over much better than Don Juan had. Charlotte had been a success, the thought of Charlotte and the kiss they had never shared brought Erik down from his euphoria. He had to do something. He knew what their agreement had been, but it had been foolish to trade a life with Charlotte for a fleeting moment of glory. But what could he do? 


	15. Til Death

Chapter Fifteen: Til Death

Charlotte stared solemnly at her reflection; once again she was in the church in a wedding dress, only this time her dress was much more flattering. However she still had the wrong groom. She wasn't entirely sure she could go through with the wedding, but she had to try; she had promised Erik. He was happy after all, he had his glory. His Opera was a huge success; she was a star, but only for one brief shining moment.

Charlotte sighed, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks as she pulled her veil down over face and turned to face her terrifying future. Her hands trembled as she reached for her bouquet of white lilies and red roses and her legs nearly gave out as she took her first step down the isle. Her steps were slow and shaky as she approached the cold, cruel man she would be forced to spend the rest of her life with. Oh how she longed for Erik to be the one waiting for her at the end of that long walk to the altar.

As Charlotte approached the final few feet of her walk she caught sight of a familiar face in the corner of her eye. She stopped and turned to face the Comtesse De Chagny.

"Madame De Chagny… I… I was not expecting you to be here."

"My husband's family has close ties with the De Savios family."

Charlotte looked down at the baby in Christine's arms.

"You have a lovely child Madame."

"Thank you dear, but I believe your husband-to-be is waiting for you."

Charlotte nodded slowly and resumed her slow walk to her death. If she married Baron De Savios she knew she would die, most likely by her own hand, if he didn't kill her first. Erik had condemned her and betrayed her; nothing short of a miracle could save her now, a miraculous appearing by her Guardian Angel.

Charlotte cringed as she reached Philippe and he took her hand possessively in his. She stood there minute after agonizing minute as the priest droned on and on. Charlotte felt as though her heart were shattering into millions of tiny shards that could never be repaired. Then came the moment Charlotte had feared.

"Is there anyone among us today who has reason to object to this union?"

Charlotte had dreaded the silence she knew would greet this question, although she longed that someone would jump up and shout a reason for this atrocious match to end before the ceremony could be completed. She turned and scanned the crowd frantically, her eyes pleading for help, she glanced at the Comtesse who only sat smiling at her child, she glanced at her father who was glaring at her. Then her eyes fell upon a cloaked figure in the very back of the Cathedral. The hood of the black cloak was pulled down low over the figures face, but Charlotte thought she saw a gleam of white underneath it. She stared at the figure tears blurring her vision, then finally her final hope collapsed and she turned to face her fate.

She watched as the Priest opened his mouth to speak again.

"Very well then…."

"Wait!" The loud cry cut the priest's words short and took the smirk from Baron De Savios's face.

"Erik…" Charlotte whispered.

"Please Messieur," Erik's voice was frantic, something that Charlotte had never heard from him before, "Please, I love this woman."

Charlotte's heart skipped a beat.

"Oh Erik!" She cried "Truly? You do?"

She watched in silent disbelief as Erik stepped into the isle, pushed back his hood, and nodded. Then she felt her heart stop as she saw the slender graceful figure of the Comtesse rise.

"Eirk? I… I thought you were dead."

"Hello Christine, and where is your husband?"

Charlotte watched as the Comte rose and put a protective arm around his wife.

"Ah, Hello Raoul. You have no reason to fear. I have not come to steal _your_ bride this time." He turned to Charlotte and a smile a of sheer delight spread across her face. "Charlotte, my love, can you ever for give for being so foolish?"

Charlotte nodded and tears of happiness slid down her cheeks as she ran into his open arms. As they leaned in for the kiss they had yet to share they were stopped by the sound of a gunshot.

"No one leaves Philippe De Savios at the altar twice!"

Charlotte flinched as she felt the barrel of a revolver jammed into her side.

"Philippe, please…." she pleaded through sobs. "Please don't do this, you can find another bride…. Many women…would…would be… more than happy to….to marry you."

She had been so close, so close to happiness and now she would die for it.

"None of these other women you speak of have near the wealth you do."

In that moment Charlotte made a rapid decision and aimed a kick where it would hurt the most. That was the last thing she remembered before her world went black.

* * *

Erik watched, frantic, as Baron De Savios held Charlotte at gun point. He kept one hand on his lasso, waiting for his opportunity as Charlotte pleaded for her life. Then in one moment he saw her kick and then pull away. With graceful speed he settled the lasso around the Baron's neck, a moment to late.

The gun fired as Erik pulled the rope tight. He heard Charlotte's scream of pain and he ran to her as she fell to the floor. In one short moment he was kneeling on the floor with his arms around her as her blood stained the sleeve of her dress. He did a quick assessment of the damage and noted a tear in the sleeve. Upon further examination he was relieved to find that the bullet had merely grazed her shoulder.

He lifted Charlotte's limp form into his arms and carried her out to his carriage, and moments later they were on their way to the Opera house, leaving Messieur Ó hEachthairn's angry cries behind.


	16. Healing Broken Wings

A/N: Okay here it is the last chapter! Yay! Don't worry though I promise there will be a sequel! I probably won't begin posting though until about mid-november or december. This is because of school and Marching Band which will take most of my time :) So without further ado i give you the end of the first part of Charlotte and Erik's story.

Chapter Sixteen: Healing Broken Wings

Erik sat staring at his beautiful fallen angel. She was still unconscious from De Savios's attack, but he knew she would be coming around soon, he could see her eyelids fluttering. He fingered the black velvet box that was hidden in a pocket in his coat, he had never been so nervous in his life, but after all, his last proposal hadn't gone very well. He shook his head to clear the memory of his failed proposal to Christine, it had been a shock seeing her and her son at Charlotte's wedding, but it had served as a reminder that she was no longer his and he was right to move on.

He hadn't even meant to go to the wedding, but he'd had to see her one last time, to say goodbye. He hadn't intended to interrupt the ceremony and take Charlotte either, after all he had given Charlotte's father his word, but it had hurt him so much to see her marrying that cold, pompous pig, and her words that last day that had talked had continued to haunt him.

"_Yes Erik, I will go now and you shall not see me here again, but before I go Erik, know this. You may not realize just how much I love you, but when you find that I am dead, know that it was out of love for you. When I marry Barron De Savois and I am no longer here, know that it was only for you."_

This combined with Christine's haunting phrase, had made him realize that he was wrong. Promise or no promise he had have Charlotte, or they would both die.

_It's in your soul, that the true distortion lies…._

Erik sighed as that phrase repeated it's self once more. He glanced once more at Charlotte her brown hair was splayed around her head, her eyes were still closed, and her pale face was regaining some of its color. He found himself focusing on her lips, they had yet to share that kiss and he longed so much to know what it was like to kiss her. His mind traveled back to his days with Giovanni, as it had so often before. Only this time his mind focused on the fairy stories Giovanni had told Luciana; in many the prince had saved his love by waking her with kiss. In his own opera it had been Lorraine's kiss that had saved Talen. He smiled as an idea formed in his mind.

Erik knelt by the bed and took Charlotte's hand in his. He leaned in captured her lips in a soft kiss. Soon he felt her stirring beneath him. He smiled and pulled away as his fallen angel moaned.

"Erik?" Her voice was groggy, but still it was music to his ears.

"Yes mon ange? I am here."

"Were….were you just kissing me?" The shock in her voice would have made Erik laugh if he hadn't been blushing.

"Yes ange déchu, I was."

"And I was not awake to enjoy it." She pretended to pout, an act that made Erik laugh.

"Well then, would you like for me to kiss again now that you are awake?"

"Yes."

The bluntness of her answer floored him for a moment, but he recovered quickly and leaned down to take her lips once more.

If her lips had been heavenly before they were only more so now that Charlotte was able to respond and kiss back. It wasn't long before the kiss deepened into one that they were both able to pour all their love into. Erik was surprised by Charlotte's passion, it easily matched his. He savored every moment of it, but all too soon the need for air became to powerful and the kiss was broken.

Erik looked down in to Charlotte's beautiful, warm brown eyes, so full of love and compassion for him that tears came to his eyes and fell down his cheeks. A look of concern crossed her angelic face.

"Erik, darling, what is wrong?" The concern in her voice nearly caused more tears to fall, but he was able to regain control of his emotions shortly.

"Nothing mon ange, I am just happy that is all. It amazes me that a woman such yourself, could love a monster like me."

"Oh Erik, You are not a monster otherwise you would have taken advantage of me long ago."

Erik smiled.

"Ah, but you are wrong ange déchu, I took advantage of you only moments ago. I kissed you while you were unable to stop me."

"Yes, but I wanted you to. So that does not count."

Erik laughed. He reached for the box that was still in his pocket, if ever there was an opportune moment it was now. He let the smile fade from his face and adopted a look of seriousness.

"Charlotte, mon ange, there is something I must ask you now."

* * *

Charlotte stared into Erik's eyes, those deep, mysterious pools of blue, so full of love she thought her heart would break from it.

"Erik, you may only ask me your question if you remove your mask first."

Erik hesitated. His mind flashed back to the day he had first revealed himself to her, she hadn't take in it very well. However, she had asked him to remove the mask, and he would do anything for her, so he closed his eyes as he removed the mask, waiting for the fear, but nothing came, just a gentle caress from a small hand. He opened his eyes and fond Charlotte sitting up and staring into his eyes. She smiled at him and Erik nearly cried again.

"Erik, mon amour, I love you more than life it's self, and now that we have a relationship I want no barriers between us, and this," she gestured at the mask, "is a barrier. So I only ask that you do not wear it when we are alone together."

Erik nodded. He didn't wear the mask when he was alone, and if he and Charlotte were going to be together, he needed to trust her.

"Erik?"

"Yes, mon ange?"

"You may ask me your question now."

Charlotte sat silent as she watched Erik fidget with something inside his coat. There were several seconds of silence until he finally adjusted him self so that he was on one knee in front of her and he took her hand in his.

"Charlotte, mon ange, you know that I love you more than my own life. I almost lost you twice today, once to another man and once to Death. I cannot bear the thought of ever losing you my love." Charlotte breath caught in her chest as Erik pulled a box from his coat pocket. "Lady Charlotte Elizabeth Ó hEachthairn, will you give me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Charlotte nodded to overcome with emotion to speak. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks as Erik placed the ring, a thin gold band with an emerald cut diamond in the center, on her finger with shaking hands. He then took both her hands in his and kissed her, softly and gently, it took her breath away.

"Oh Erik," Charlotte sighed after the kiss ended, "you've made me the happiest woman in the world."

Erik just smiled and pulled her into a tight embrace.

* * *

Erik loved the feel of Charlotte in his arms, her body close to his and her hair brushing his cheek. He savored her scent, the scent of roses and warmth unique to her, as he let it set in that this wonderful woman had just agreed to be his for a lifetime.

"Charlotte?"

"Yes my love?" she murmured contently into his chest.

"When do you want to have our wedding?"

"As soon possible darling. I don't know how long I can wait to become your wife."

Erik smiled.

"Well, then how about right now?"

"Now?"

"Yes, now. After we are both dressed for the occasion, Madame Giry and her daughter can serve as witnesses."

"Truly Erik? You would marry me now, right this second?"

"If I could darling I would. However we must first go and get our witnesses. That is if you want to marry me tonight. Do you?"

Charlotte nodded and smiled.

* * *

An hour later they stood in front of a priest, repeating their vows as a tearful Madame Giry looked on. Neither Erik nor Charlotte could keep their eyes of the other. Charlotte was truly ravishing in the dress, though one sleeve was torn and stained with her blood, no one really noticed because the joy radiating from her glowing face held their attention. Once the vows were said and the priest had pronounced them man and wife, they shared their fourth kiss of the day and their first kiss as Mr. and Mrs. Erik Bellmont, it was slow and sweet.

Not long after they were back in Erik's home below the opera. Erik lifted Charlotte into his arms and carried her into what was now their room.

"Tomorrow, love," he whispered, "I shall begin to find a house for us."

"That would be a good thing Erik, because I don't believe it would be wise to raise children here, so close to a lake."

Erik lay Charlotte down on the bed and sat down next to her.

"You mean, you want to have my children?"

"Of course I do Erik."

"You are not afraid they will have my… my face."

"Well, that is a possibility, but it would not matter to me because they would still be our children."

Erik smiled and wiped a tear from his eye.

"And when shall we start my love?"

Charlotte smiled wickedly and placed her hand on Erik arm.

"How about now darling?"

Erik smiled and kissed his wife.


End file.
